


Feathers, Horns and Bullet Holes

by LuckyFlucky934



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, My First Fanfic, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:55:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25059610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyFlucky934/pseuds/LuckyFlucky934
Summary: A war of angels vs demons, where neighbours have become enemies. Loss will reunite these two families, but with extra mouths to feed and danger lurking around every corner, will they be able to stay hidden in order to survive?
Comments: 8
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter is the prompt written by Dancingdog and it is amazing, and this is where I fell in love with this fic so I decided to give it a go. Dancingdog is also correcting my grammar and spelling so that it is readable! Thank you so much for your awesome prompt Dancingdog and I hope you enjoy the rest of this fic as I write it!
> 
> I've not decided where I'm going with this fic so that's why I haven't put loads of tags because I don't want to spoil it. Hope you enjoy, it's my first fic and I'm not sure how regularly I'll update it but I'll try! Enjoy!

John Winchester had never been all that fond of angels. Considering he was a demon, that wasn’t all that surprising but he tried his best to keep his distaste for the winged species away from his sons because back when Mary was alive, she had preached acceptance and forgiveness and he wanted to respect his wife’s wishes.

He hadn’t been able to hide his grimace though when Dean first brought home the ‘best friend’ he’d been yammering on about for months, but thankfully, both Dean and his angelic friend, Castiel Novak, had been too young to consider questioning his discomfort. He’d allowed Castiel into the house but he had tried to stay away from him as much as possible.

In John’s opinion, all angels were snobs and far too egotistical to be anything good. Dean might like Castiel when they were a mere six years old, but as the years passed, Castiel would distance himself from Dean, thinking himself better than the young demon and John would be left to pick up the pieces of Dean’s broken heart. It was always the same story. In fact, John was surprised that Castiel was associating himself with demons to begin with; angels often looked down upon demons, thinking they were less intelligent, less graceful, less perfect than their own feathered selves.

John had been called ‘ugly’ and ‘idiotic’ and ‘brutish’ more times than he cared to think about and he wasn’t a stranger to fighting angels. Granted, he lived up to the stereotypical demon’s hot temper and he didn’t shy away from using his fists instead of his words to settle arguments, but those angels just rubbed him up the wrong way and they always managed to find an insult that got under his skin. He was tired of degrading comments about his long horns and scaly tail; angels could be plain rude when they wanted to be.

And so, he waited for the day that Castiel would turn his nose up at Dean’s tail or begin humiliating him in class about his intelligence and John promised himself that he would be there for his son.

Except, that day never came.

Castiel’s family moved into John’s neighbourhood and the little angel grew closer to Dean. He was always very polite to John and he watched Sam grow up from being a two-year-old.

Suddenly, all the Novak kids were around John’s house; playing with Dean, doing homework, cooing over Sam, with Dean often visiting their house too and that really shocked John because Michael Novak was at least eight years older than Dean, with Lucifer six years older, Raphael four and Gabriel two. What on Earth could these older kids find so interesting about Dean and Sam?

He never said anything to any of them though and found himself cooking dinner for them on many occasions as the years passed. He wondered if the Novak parents were this confused when Dean visited their house.

When Dean turned eleven, everything changed.

Tensions between demons and angels had slowly been rising and where John had received a few insulting comments here and there in the past, now it wasn’t uncommon for angels and demons to suddenly break out into fights in the street. Hate crimes had increased with more and more people suffering from gun shot or stab wounds and even school children were being taken to court for prejudice and grievous bodily harm.

It was still a surprise when the first bomb exploded.

Nobody really knew what had happened or who had placed the bomb; all they knew was part of Washington was in flames with over a hundred dead and the body count steadily rising. After that, things got worse and all of America was at war with itself.

Masses of angels and demons were dying every day to the point where people began stocking up on tinned foods and boarding up their windows and doors for fear of losing their families. Neighbours couldn’t be trusted and nobody left their houses because if they did, they would either get shot or blown up.

It was worse than any World War and the government were divided into angels versus demons too, so it was clear there would be no peaceful resolve any time soon.

Approximately seven months into the madness, John peeked through a window and watched a teenage angel and demon tear one another to shreds. Soon after, the house at the end of the road burst into flames and when the family of angels tried to escape, they were gunned down by a pair of hiding demons. John winced and turned away, pulling Sam closer as Dean flinched at the family’s agonized screams.

“When will it stop?” Whimpered Sam, big hazel eyes glazed over with tears.

John stroked his head gently. “I don’t know,” he admitted and Dean finally gave in and hopped off the bed and ran into his father’s arms.

“I want it to go back to how it used to be,” whispered Dean, tugging Sam into his side; protecting him like a good big brother. “I want to be able to play outside again and go to school.”

John’s heart cracked and he lowered himself to the floor, smiling when Sam crawled on top of him.

“How about we go into the basement and I’ll teach you something, huh?” John asked, trying to lift his sons’ spirits. “I’ll teach you anything you want.”

Sam perked up. “Can you teach us some more Latin?”  
John chuckled and ruffled Sam’s hair.

“Course I can.”

He stood and placed his hands on his sons’ backs, leading them to the door, but he barely made it four steps when a terrified crying caught his attention. Frowning, he cautiously made his way to the boarded window and peaked through the cracks into the middle of the street.

His eyes widened at the sight of Michael and Lucifer desperately trying to hush Castiel’s broken sobbing whilst shielding their younger siblings with their own bodies, gazes frantic as they glanced all around them. They looked burned and bloodied and Mr. and Mrs. Novak where nowhere to be seen.

John watched in horror as the pair of demons from earlier suddenly smirked from behind a fence and trained their guns on the young angels.

John tore the boards down, uncaring if they carved his palms open and he whipped out his hand gun and slammed the window open. With two rapid shots, both demons slumped to the ground, lifeless and all five Novak angels turned to the fallen demons with wide, horrified eyes. John refused to give himself time to think about how he’d killed two of his own neighbours and raced down the stairs, Sam and Dean at his heels. He yanked at the boards hiding the front door and flung it open, beckoning frantically for the Novaks to join him.

They sprinted over and John locked the door before turning an incredulous gaze towards the angels.

“What were you thinking?” He seethed, eyes sliding to black in fury. “Standing in the middle of the street like a flock of sitting ducks! Were you trying to get killed? Where are your parents?”

All five angels flinched at his anger, ducking their heads and lowering their wings in an attempt to show they weren’t a threat and John closed his eyes and worked to control his temper. These kids were terrified of him and with him being a demon, they had good right to be.

“Where are your parents?” He asked again, softer this time and that was when he noticed they were crying.

“Cas? Cas, what happened?” Dean demanded, tugging the friend he hadn’t been allowed to see in six months into a bone-crushing hug. Castiel held on tight, wrapping his wings around Dean as he pressed his face into the demon’s neck.

“They’re dead, Dean,” Castiel whimpered. “Both of them. There was a bomb…” He trailed off and John didn’t need any more explanation as Cas sobbed into Dean’s neck; the young demon gasping and holding his friend tighter as he petted a wing.

John watched Sam rush over to a crying Gabriel and the pair embraced each other before Sam tugged Raphael into the hug as well.

John’s heart broke as Michael tucked Lucifer into his side; the two older boys trying to remain strong whilst in John’s presence, even though it was clear they were on the verge of screaming out their anguish.

John swallowed thickly as he glanced around the scene. He had no obligation to look after these angels; to use his family’s limited resources on members of the species that demons were at war with…

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” said John quietly. “We still have running water and there’s a first aid kit under the sink for those burns.”

Lucifer sagged in relief as Michael’s teary gaze turned grateful.

When no one immediately moved, John opened his arms tentatively.

“Come here,” he whispered.

He staggered backwards from the force of Michael and Lucifer attaching themselves to him. They sobbed brokenly into his chest and he held them tightly, petting their wings carefully in the same manner he’d seen Dean do with Cas countless times.

“They’re gone,” Michael choked. “How can they be gone?”

John felt nauseous. “You’re welcome here for as long as you want.” He carded his fingers through their ash-laden wings and heard Lucifer whine in despair.

“Thank you,” Michael managed, gripping his brother’s wing. Lucifer quickly arched the wing around his older brother, seemingly protecting him and Michael pressed his own wings into his brother’s feathers.

John glanced around the other boys to find Gabriel, Raphael and Sam cocooned in a wall of feathers, all three cuddled up together on the floor with both angels hiding their faces in Sam’s shoulders. Cas had crawled on top of Dean, his wings wrapped around the demon as Dean buried his tail into the black feathers and stroked the angel’s hair.

John licked his lips drily and wondered how he was going to take care of five orphaned angels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only thing I altered after this was that I changed some of their ages so:
> 
> Michael: 17  
> Lucifer: 16  
> Dean and Castiel: 12  
> Raphael: 10  
> Sam and Gabriel: 8


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter was written by Dancingdog (I take no credit for its awesomeness). The rest of the chapters are written by me, with Dancingdog being my beta (is that the right term?)
> 
> The only thing I altered from the prompt was that I changed some of their ages to the following:
> 
> Michael: 17  
> Lucifer: 16  
> Dean and Castiel: 12  
> Raphael: 10  
> Sam and Gabriel: 8
> 
> Please let me know what you think in the comments! Hope you enjoy!

The war had been difficult for all. What had started as grumbles between neighbours of different species had only escalated. Somehow the country had never managed to regain its order and the whole justice system had collapsed.

It was at times like this that John really missed Mary. Despite being a demon, she was very compassionate and worked daily to break the stereotypical view of demons. She made efforts to talk with angels; at the supermarket, the gym, the park and anywhere else she met them. Not just conversations about the weather either, deep meaningful conversations about their families, politics, religious views, anything that allowed them to discuss their various opinions. Angels and Society had been her thesis topic in university, and she'd aced it (as always) and that had really helped her physiology degree. She'd always been able to help anyone with their troubles regardless of species and surely could've ended a lot of the troubles before they ever got this far.

Why on Earth she'd married John he'd still never know because he was the most stereotypical demon he knew. But maybe she had seen something different in him. Maybe that's why he'd never raised Dean and Sam to hate angels, only to be wary of them at times. Maybe that's why when he was faced with looking after 5 extra mouths, he'd said yes come in, as opposed to throwing them out to be slaughtered.

Now he stood in his corridor, hugging the two older ones and silently making plans to keep them all safe whilst they sobbed into his t-shirt. Anna and Samandriel had raised their children well. Both parents had been kind and thoughtful to John and he only hoped that it wasn't their friendship that got them killed. They were unlike other angels in that as long as he'd known them, they'd never looked down their noses at him. They also had a large brood, which was unusual for angels who usually kept their families to an even four (two parents, two children). There was no law, but it was understood in the angel community that it was more civilized to do this. Therefore, John imagined that they probably clashed with fellow angels as much as they did with demons in some respects.

It was usually the demons that had large families of unruly children, which only added fuel to the fire when fights began, as angels thought of themselves of higher standing than demons. John had often wondered if Mary had lived longer whether they would've had more children, but he knew she would be proud of her two boys. Both were strong individuals with bursting personalities and neither hesitated to stick their necks out for their friends.

This was why he was able to look around the corridor at the sea of feathers and although the sobs had quietened, he knew he needed more information to protect his family.

"Boys." He began and watched as two heads emerged from clusters of feathers to listen to their father. "Take Castiel, Raphael and Gabriel down to the cellar, would you? I just need to fix the boarding up here." Michael and Lucifer pulled away slightly, still gripped tightly to each other but now wearing nervous expressions on their faces. John waited until he heard the cellar door click shut before he said anything more.

"Do you want us to leave?" Michael asked tentatively. Lucifer huddled closer to him and grabbed a handful of his shirt. Michael felt Lucifer's grip tighten and his protective mode turned on as he hurried through his next questions. "I can go if that would help? One less mouth to feed and all that. Just please keep Luci here. Please look after my brothers. I'm sorry we came; we just didn't know where else to go. We are so ..."

"Whoa! Steady there!" John interrupted. "I'm not asking you to go I just needed to ask you a couple of sensitive questions and I didn't want to upset your brothers, is that ok?" Both boys nodded as Lucifer relaxed his grip on Michael's shirt, their faces still understandably nervous but John could see that for now they had stopped trembling.

"I need to know whether you were followed?" John began with the most crucial question.

"I don't think so." Michael began. "We ran as fast as we could, but I don't ... I don't know, I'm sorry."

"Shh, shh, shhh now. It's ok." John said calmly as Michael’s voice began to break. John focused on trying to make his voice as soft as possible. "It's ok, I'm just trying to help, I have another couple of questions, are you ok to answer those? Just as best as you can." He waited for them to nod before continuing. "Do you know if anyone saw you get away?"

"There was a lot of smoke." Michael fell silent, staring into space. John reached his hand forward to gently tap his shoulder, which made him jump backwards in shock and John recoiled his hand. Michael's face twisted in anguish. "They were screaming, our parents, they were screaming … and outside … they were all cheering. How could they all be cheering, watching our parents burn?" John was silent how was he supposed to answer that? Michael took another breath before answering John’s question. "No, I don't think so, we left by the backdoor. There was a lot of smoke."

The next question slipped out of John's mouth before he had a chance to catch it.  
"I thought there was a bomb?" He bit his tongue, a practise John had learnt when scolding himself for saying the wrong thing, especially growing up. These kids were traumatized, he didn't need to be making them relive the details.

Lucifer nodded his head slowly and John suddenly noticed his face was a shade of white he didn't think was even possible on the young boy. He looked sickly and frail, but John realised that he must have been staring when Michael wrapped his arm round him and pulled his brother back under his wing, allowing Lucifer to grab a handful of his feathers to hold on to.

"There was a bomb," Michael began trying to keep the shaking out of his voice. "It was small but it blew out some of the windows and collapsed part of the house. They were trapped in the kitchen. Then the ..." He paused, clearly wanting to use stronger language than he felt comfortable with in front of a demon. John waited for him to continue. "Demons. They set fire to the curtains and the whole house." Michael swallowed dryly, struggling to hold back tears, his eyes just like his brothers were already rubbed raw.

John didn't need him to finish, he'd seen this kind of murderous attack before. Demons would trap the angels inside a house, a small bomb or gun fire would keep them inside and then they'd set fire to anything they could reach. Sometimes they’d even throw fireworks inside just to get a blaze going. The end result was always the same; the occupants would either burn alive or be shot as they tried to escape. It was a brutal way to die, although the angels had their own ways of fighting back that could be equally horrific.

"Ok one last question Michael," John said softly, anxious to end this conversation for the benefit of them all. "Did you recognise anyone outside? I know it's really hard, but it's important so please try to think back for me." Michael screwed his face up in concentration, his eyes darting from side to side underneath his eyelids, as he tried to picture the demons outside his house.

"The demon in the red hat." Lucifer chimed in quietly. He'd been so quiet that for a moment John had forgotten he was there. He was still cocooned in one of his brother's wings, trembling slightly. He fell silent again and it occurred to John that this was the first time he'd said something since they'd all barreled through the doors over twenty minutes ago.

"Who's that Lucifer?" John asked as gently as he could, but Lucifer still shuffled further into his brother's feathers.

"Asmodeus.” Michael picked up. “He was there. That's right Luci, thank you I hadn't remembered." he congratulated his younger brother, squeezing him into a tighter hug.

The Novak’s lived a couple of streets over from the Winchester’s. It was a difficult neighbourhood for angels as it was predominately demon territory, but despite the tension most had coped with their company. However, there were a few exceptions. Asmodeus, was one of them. He lived a few doors down from John and despite being a demon, he'd always thought of himself as better. So, when the fights started breaking out across the country, Asmodeus had been all too eager to lead the charge against angels. He was a slimy, horrid man with thick scraggy hair and a similar beard. He often wore a bright red baseball cap and his thick curling horns and long sharp tail could easily scare the demon children let alone the angel children. It didn't surprise John that he would have been mostly, if not completely, behind this attack. But it did worry him how many demons Asmodeus had amassed and how close he was to John's house. If he found out that the Novak children had escaped, he'd surely hunt them down; all angels were considered scum to him.

John steadied himself, if he wasn't careful, he would spiral from the hopelessness of the situation. He tried to force a gentle smile onto his face to reassure the boys.

"Ok thank you both. Now go on downstairs to the cellar and join the other boys. I just need to fix the boards up here, okay?" He waited for both of the boys to silently agree and then listened to their footsteps walking to the cellar and down the stairs. He didn't move until he'd heard the door click shut. He was taking a big risk here if he allowed them to stay, if the demons found out, it would likely lead to all of their deaths, but he hoped Anna and Samandriel would have had the courage to protect Dean and Sam had it been the other way around. He would have to take extra precautions to keep them all safe. It was difficult enough to feed three let alone eight, not to mention having to keep their presence completely unknown.

Since the beginning of the war John's trust in his fellow neighbours and friends had diminished substantially. He saw another side to them emerge that disgusted him to the core, and he'd chosen to isolate himself, Dean and Sam from not only angels for fear of their safety, but also other demons. But he couldn't turn them out into the street, it didn't matter that they were children, they would still be gunned down just as easily. John scolded himself for even thinking of it but at least it seemed that other than the two demons John had shot across the street earlier, all of the other demons were at the Novak's burning home. Which would mean that perhaps they'd made it here without being noticed and that would at least give them a chance, or if nothing else, a head start.

John looked at the door and the broken panels. He'd need more wood from the cellar to be able to fix this. His house needed to be more secure than ever now. He raised his hands to his hips and sighed. That's when he heard it. The scream.

"DAD!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a long chapter this time, sorry for the wait. I hope you enjoy!

It doesn't take long for parents to learn the calls of their children. From birth they are trained in how to respond, from giving hugs and kisses for boo-boos, all the way to providing food and other comfort needs for their offspring. Whilst demons are known to be typically less nurturing than angels, Mary's death had provoked John to take a much greater role in his children's lives than he ever thought he'd have to.

Dean still had a few memories of his mother, times that they'd sit and read together, when they used to go on walks to the cupcake shop or how she'd sing him to sleep after he'd had a nightmare. Sam on the other hand had missed all of these opportunities; his mother would forever be a dream to him, just a figure in a photograph. Even though John tried to be as fair to both of his boys as much as possible, he had still watched the disappointment in Sam's eyes every time Dean mentioned his mother, or when John talked about Mary. So, when it came down to it: take outs, movies, hikes, learning Latin, they often went with Sam’s choice of activity. Not that Dean ever minded, he was the perfect big brother that way, he was always happiest when Sam was happy. But whatever they did, John always made sure that they did it together.

John tried to be as hands-on a father as he could be. Many in their neighbourhood would remark on how dedicated he was to his sons and each time they did, John's answer would be the same.

"I am here, because Mary couldn't be." But the truth was he loved it. He didn't understand other demons sometimes and why they could be so distant to their young. The way Dean giggled at shadow puppets growing up, the way Sam laughed when it rained outside and begged to go and stomp in the puddles, the way they both hugged and cried at Bambi and absolutely everything else in between. John wouldn't trade those memories for the world.

John had been at every single milestone for each of his boys. He knew how they liked their food, what made them laugh, what made them cry, their favourite movies and games. He knew everything, because he'd been there, through it all. He'd been their rock just as much as they'd been his. So that's why it had only taken one word to rock him to his core.

Dean didn't have to call again because John had sprinted to the cellar door in less than a second. He threw open the hatch door and was just about to throw himself down the stairs to protect his sons when he heard Dean shout ...

"Dad! Stop!"

John froze on the spot. He was half in and half out of the cellar. His feet two steps from the top of the stairs, his arms still holding the door above his head. The gap from the hatch flooded the room with more light than it was used too and dust fell like snow from the ceiling. It was in this position that John finally gathered his breath just enough to look round at the occupants.

Castiel and Raphael were over to John's right; their wings shielding Sam and Gabriel, pressing them into the wall behind them, protecting them in endless feathers. Dean was further round to the left, stock still and rigid, with his hands well above his head. He was also quickly glancing between the bottom of the staircase and his father and if John squinted, he could see that Dean was shuffling slowly away from his little brother and the other angels in a strangely protective manner.

John dragged his eyes away from his eldest son’s terrified face and followed his gaze to the stairs. At the very bottom was Michael, he had his hands slightly raised, but his palms were pointing more diagonally downwards, as if he was trying to calm or soothe someone. Michael was also glancing at John, his face twisted in distress and with good reason.

Lucifer was three steps from the bottom of the stairs, holding John's gun and pointing it at Dean's head.

Lucifer was completely still. He reminded John of one of those kids in the TV dramas Dean and Cas were always watching together. A kid would somehow get hold of a gun and take his class hostage and then some powerful negotiation would happen, where they were promised things John couldn't possibly hope to give and everything would end happily ever after. But this was real life. John scolded himself, he’d dropped the gun on the coffee table as he’d run down the stairs to get to the Novaks. He never left it out in the open, it was too dangerous. But in his hurry, he’d completely forgotten about it, and now, not even an hour later, his son had a loaded weapon pointed at his head.

"Luci? It's ok brother.” Michael said softly, edging closer to his brother. “Can we put the gun down?" The gun remained directed towards Dean. Dean’s hands remained raised in the air. Everyone was silent. John slid his foot towards the next step. Holding his breath as he tested his weight on it, praying it wouldn’t creak, it didn’t. He lowered the door slightly as he joined his feet together on the lower step. Sneaking into the cellar would be next to impossible, he needed another plan of action. He needed the gun away from Dean.

"Lucifer,” John commanded “If you're gonna point that gun at someone, then you'll point it at me, boy!" Hoping that he wouldn’t hear the waver of fear in his voice. He slinked down another step. He had to get closer to Lucifer, if he could just reach it, he could grab it. It was the only way they’d stand a chance.

He puffed out his chest and swallowed his fear as he stepped down another step, reacting to the imminent danger his eldest was in. Without warning the gun pivoted round towards John. He felt his breath catch and his mouth go dry. John could see straight into Lucifer’s eyes, they were glazed over as if he was in a trance, cold and emotionless. John felt his heart wrench, he’d never seen the young boy like this before.

"Luci,” Michael tried again. “You don't need to shoot anyone, we're all here to help, just please talk to us." The gun pivoted back now towards Michael. Michael shifted his wings to make himself look smaller and a look of panic flashed across his face. John imagined he’d looked the same when he saw Lucifer’s face. He took a chance and slid down another step, finally able to shut the hatch door. Lucifer twitched as it clicked shut and the gun twitched too. John moved his aching arms down to mimic Michael's non-threatening posture. John felt much less confident now and much less optimistic. He didn’t know this Lucifer; he wouldn’t be able to predict what he might do. He wasn’t even sure that Lucifer knew what he was doing.

The gun whipped back to Dean. Lucifer slapped both hands around it, curling his fingers around the grip.

"STOP MOVING!" Lucifer shouted. Everyone jumped and then froze in position. His hands were trembling slightly around the grip causing the gun to shake in response, although John could see he was trying to keep it still.

The room was eerily silent. The gun was still too far out of reach for John to grab it and he certainly couldn’t take the risk of lunging for it, now that it was pointing at Dean again. He glimpsed over to his son, who had small beads of sweat emerging on his forehead, he looked so frightened. From his position on the stairs John looked around the room to check on the other boys. He could see Sam and Gabriel shaking visibly behind their wall of feathers, both silently crying. Castiel and Raphael were both quiet, they looked to be in a state of shock, but they were still bravely holding their wings around the younger two. Both, young angels had their mouths hanging slightly open and John could see that they were breathing heavily, their focus still trained on Lucifer.

John felt an urge inside himself to speak. To try and gain control of the situation again. He cleared his throat under his breath and swallowed, suddenly aware of how dry his mouth was. He took a final sharp breath in and began.

"Lucifer ... why are you doing this son?"

"Don't call me son! You're not my father!"

"Ok, ok I'm sorry."

"He burned!" Lucifer's voice broke on his own words. His eyes welling with tears.

"I know, I know and I'm so sorry Lucifer." John paused for a second, hoping that his next request would not push him to do something they'd all regret. He took a deep breath and tried to force his voice to sound calmer than he really was. "Please put the gun down, don't you think enough blood has been shed today?"

The room grew still again. John held his breath waiting for a response. The gun was still aimed at Dean. Lucifer's hand still wrapped tightly round the grip, his finger securely on the trigger.

"But I ... I." Lucifer stuttered, his face getting paler as tears began to roll down his cheeks. He lowered the gun slightly, but not away from Dean.

"It's ok," John began, deciding to take the risk of advancing down another step.

Creak!

John held his breath. The room held its breath. Nothing. John saw Lucifer’s eyes flicker towards him for a moment. He imagined Lucifer’s mind was processing that John was getting closer. Both of them were running out of time for their respective causes. John to save his son, Lucifer to shoot him.

John swallowed; his lungs felt heavy, like the air was weighing him down. He was close now and the closer he got, the more dangerous it was. The tension in the room was tangible and he could hear the sniffs of crying children which made his heart want to break. He braced himself and slid down another step.

"It's ok Luci, you can talk to us ... to me," Michael began again, also edging closer to his brother. "Please Luci, please put it down," he begged.

The gun rose in the air, causing everyone to freeze.

"But we can't," Lucifer began his words coming out between giant sobs now. He blinked to remove the tears that were blurring his vision and stinging his eyes. "We can't."

"We can't what, brother?"

"We can't trust them!” Lucifer shouted “They're demons! They want us dead!" He moved one hand away from the gun to wipe his eyes with the back of his sleeve. But the gun was still pointed at Dean and his finger was still on the trigger, John couldn’t risk it.

A wailing sound came from John's right, making him jump. He glanced over to see Gabriel crying at the top of his lungs, the stress of the situation suddenly too much for the young angel. Castiel too, was fighting to hold back tears, a battle that had already been lost for Raphael. Sam was gently trying to shush Gabriel, holding him close and rocking him back and forth. John felt a warm wave of pride spread through his body, suddenly aware of just how much his youngest son had been through in his short life. Sam’s ability to help others in such a stressful situation was remarkable, especially at such a young age. He’d lost his mother, but he’d never taken a family hostage and threatened their lives. John felt a pulse of anger surge through his body as he looked back towards Lucifer who was now starting to babble.

"They killed our parents, they burnt them to the ground!" The wailing grew louder. John felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. The situation was becoming more dangerous, Lucifer was becoming erratic and there was a horrid niggling feeling in John’s mind that someone outside might be able to hear them.

Lucifer was waving the gun in Dean’s general direction now, but it was still too risky to make a grab for it. His free hand returned to support the other one, and with a flash the opportunity was lost.

"They want us dead! How are we ... how are we going to survive? They didn't ... didn’t deserve it! I just ... I ... I want to go home. We have to get out of here!" Lucifer cried between sobs.

John looked past Lucifer to Michael, he would need help to close the distance between himself and Lucifer. Michael met John’s gaze. They shared a small nod before John watched as Michael's shoulders dropped, his chest puffed out, his wings flared. He turned towards his younger brother, standing with authority. John watched as Michael took a deep breath in, soaking up the power his new posture had given him before he began.

"Luci that's ridiculous!” Michael started, his tone slightly stronger than before. Lucifer continued to stare at his target. “Mr. Winchester didn't kill our parents!" Another wail from John’s right. Michael put one foot up on the bottom step. John could see that he was attempting to show that he wasn’t afraid, although you’d have to be a fool to say that you could be in a situation like this and not be afraid.

"Lucifer, listen to me!" Michael shouted, his sudden change in tone startled both John and Lucifer, the latter finally turning to face his brother. "Mr. Winchester didn't hurt our parents, he wasn't even there! It wasn't his idea, nor would he have had anything to do with it! Instead he took us in! We were out in the street, Lucifer! We were anyone's game and he opened the door for us! He even killed two demons to save us!" Another quieter wail. Michael’s tone was growing stronger and angrier by the second as he continued to reprimand his brother. John took the opportunity whilst Lucifer was distracted to slink down to the next step, he was close now. Meanwhile, Michael hadn’t finished, his questions becoming more stunted, more accusatory.

"Is this how you're going to repay him? Is this how you were raised? Look at your brothers! They are crying because of you! Now put that gun down!"

Lucifer stared for a moment at his older brother before turning to survey the room. As he turned, John could see his eyes were wide with disbelief. The gun turned with him, almost forgotten in his hands. Lucifer’s posture shifted, shrinking slightly as the extremity of what he had done hit him like a ton of bricks. As the gun wandered away from Dean's tiny body, John saw his chance. This was it! He leapt forward, wrapping his hands round the barrel and grip, throwing his arms skyward, so as to not risk any casualties. Lucifer snapped his focus back onto John, the shock making him tense, his eyes piercing. Both gritted their teeth, locked in a game of tug of war. The gun wobbled between their control. Lucifer’s muscles clenched, hands fighting to remain in control and ...

BANG!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, here’s the next chapter. Sorry for the delay, although if you thought that this story was going to be written quickly then you’ve vastly misjudged my writing speed and my ability to procrastinate! A slight shift of focus for this chapter, hope you enjoy and without further ado …

Michael felt his ears ringing. His eyes were so tightly screwed shut that he could feel a headache coming on, or maybe that was from his ears. The sound of the gunshot was still rippling through him, making his knees shake. Through the high-pitched squealing noise, he could hear multiple children crying off to his left, but only silence came from the stairs.

He couldn’t look! He didn’t want to look. He didn't want to know what his brother had done. Or what had been done to him. Was someone dead? Injured? Hurt? Taking their last breath? He couldn't, today had been too much. A hushed whisper escaped his lips.

“No more!”

Yesterday, Michael had, had the pickings of a full English breakfast. He’d had everything right down to the buttered toast at the end (his favourite). They'd all been together. Everyone buzzing around in their kitchen, which was only made busier by his brothers constantly getting up from the large oak table to: refill drinks, wash their hands or pass plates full of food and other various forms of cutlery around. Despite the absolute chaos at times and that almost everything had the faint burnt taste from his mother’s less than perfect cooking, it was home.

Michael always enjoyed being in the kitchen, the gentle hub bub (between meal times) and the smiling faces wandering in and out never failed to lift his spirit. It was large room, light and airy, with a soft, yellow theme and a huge window through one wall. A backdoor led out into their garden, adding light to the room in summer and leaves throughout autumn and once or twice snow in winter. It would be open everyday in summer, allowing the gentle smell of his mother’s flowers and occasionally the odd bumble bee to drift in. Michael always enjoyed these months.

Recently, the large oak table had become the centre of their education. A place where all of the Novak children were required to attend during regular school hours. Their mother had vowed from the start, that if the schools closed, their education would not stop. The children had only groaned in response (all of his younger brothers had thought that they might be in for a bit of a holiday). Michael, however, had correctly predicted, that they would in fact be studying even harder with Anna Novak as a teacher. He didn’t mind though; in truth he actually enjoyed the challenge and his mother was in her element.

The majority of Michael’s schooling had been a breeze. His teachers always gave him good marks and he had plenty of time to socialise and read law books. He couldn’t wait to start university and finally be able to train to be a lawyer! He didn’t want this break in schooling to ruin his chances.

In Anna’s classroom, she had worked tirelessly to make sure each of her children were being challenged by their studies. One thing Anna could not stand was laziness! She didn’t believe that there was a challenge that couldn’t be overcome with some elbow grease. All that said, there was no one more encouraging that their mother. She had taught each of her sons how to read and write before they’d even joined kindergarten and she knew everything about their lives both school related and socially. She was a shoulder to cry on, a best friend and their greatest teacher. At one point or another she’d sat with each of her children and spent long hours helping them overcome something difficult from Michael’s maths and science experiments all the way through to Raphael’s art coursework. Each son had known exactly who to turn to and their mother had been there for each of them, every time.

She also never complained, even when inevitably they’d “remember” essays that should have been done weeks ago, tests that should have been completed, even the occasional project that hadn’t even be started, all due for the next day. She’d sit up late, coaxing them through, helping wherever she could and providing snacks and drinks until they were finished. She’d never lecture them on their time management or how they should start taking more responsibility over their school work, she’d simply sing a rhyme or riddle at them.

“Procrastination is the foundation …”  
“Of all disasters. Pandora Poikilos.” Her sons would chant back, usually followed by an eye roll. But that was how their mother taught them, through rhymes and riddles and quotes from all sorts of writers, physicians and public speakers.

In the classroom, at the Novak house, Anna would dress as the day would be expected to go – smart and proper – and she would expect her sons to do the same. School uniforms were a must, despite the backlash it got! Anna would take her time with each of them, explaining their work and what questions she’d want them to complete. If the questions in the textbooks weren’t complicated enough then she’d make up her own. She’d spend the evening before preparing and scrutinising their next days schedule.

They were expected to work hard. They’d teach each other, which was surprisingly beneficial. Anna would ask them to make presentations and develop their own skills as well as learn to be more proactive with their educations. There were many benefits to the Novak classroom, within a couple of months Michael could notice the remarkable improvement in not only his own studies but Raphael, his usually shy younger brother, was coming out of his shell, with the freedom to express his own art (away from the structured teaching of a classroom) he had improved leaps and bounds, he’d even lead a few art lessons for the rest of them! Lucifer’s use of tenses and “buzz words” in his English assignments had dramatically improved. His short stories had interest and movement, and they were better than some of the published ones Michael had read, and his novels were following suit. Gabriel was really getting into history, learning about Henry VIII and joyfully telling them facts (most of which the rest of them already knew, but they looked shocked and interested and that always made him smile). Castiel was always a mixed student, he enjoyed everything and before the schools shutting Michael wouldn’t have been able to name his favourite subject, only that he was really good at Maths. Under Anna’s teachings he was really getting into Geography, he’d run a couple of classes on coastal erosion and even one on the Great Wall of China, both of which had been fascinating!

That was the main thing Michael loved. He loved watching the light in his brother’s eyes as they led a class, gave a presentation or even just achieved something that they’d struggled with. It brought them closer together. He’d never before known so much about his brothers and it was fantastic! He would sometimes pause and look around as they worked on questions and although the groans never ceased, every single one of them loved their lessons (even if not all of them would admit it). Their heads would be furiously buried in their notes and textbooks, unconscious smiles on their faces. Their mother would be gliding between them, helping wherever she was needed. Sometimes Michael would catch her eye and she’d wink and smile at him, and he’d feel that warmth rush through him from the knowledge that she was always there for them.

Until she wasn’t!

That was all yesterday’s dream. Every second he thought of a new thing that would never happen. Raphael’s lesson on fine art tomorrow would never happen, Gabriel’s history presentation that he’d worked so hard on, was lost. The joy he’d imagined on his parent’s faces as he graduated was now a wish that would never happen. That last realisation made his heart sink and for a moment his lungs felt so heavy and wet that they refused to draw in breath.

Before their kitchen had only ever held good memories, despite his mother’s cooking which meant that everything was always slightly overdone. But even still, Michael knew nobody else could make a better breakfast with all the trimmings. Now it would forever be the place they’d died. Maybe if he’d had known that, that would be the last meal she’d ever make for them, he would’ve offered to help or simply gotten up and given her a hug. He felt the pain of their loss tightening his throat and sending a shiver down his spine. It had been his family: chaotic, loving, safe … until it wasn’t.

Just a day later and everything was different. Michael felt cold now, empty and responsible. He was in charge. He had to look after them. Protect them if he could. He wished he'd paid more attention to his father's ridiculous teachings. He never had to worry before, his parents had always been there to protect them, but now Michael would have to take on that role. In the space of a day, he'd gone from an older brother to a single parent. It all seemed too much, and he could feel his large, happy family slipping away.

Raphael had reverted back to his quiet self, Castiel too had taken on an unusually quiet nature, Gabriel was crying like a toddler and what had happened to Luci? His brother was usually so boisterous, happy to rough and tumble with his younger brothers and then usually getting told off for being too rough (although his brother’s loved it). Now he was quiet, distant, Michael didn't even recognise this young boy. Looking back on it, Michael couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen his brother cry.

He'd always been close with Lucifer. They'd been together the longest and there was quite a gap between their ages and the rest of their brothers. They were also usually going through the same things at school, (before it had closed) and experienced similar struggles that came along with being teenagers. Then when home-schooling started, they had often found themselves helping each other, Michael helped Lucifer with English and Languages and Lucifer repaid the favour with Maths and Science. Both knew what it was like to have younger brothers that needed taking care of, organising, helping, entertaining, dealing with when they screamed. Finally, both had chores to do and would receive similar lectures about video games, homework and turning off their phones so they could make lasting memories with their family, although he hoped that Lucifer hadn't remembered that particular lecture yet!

Back in the present, Michael was becoming increasingly aware that he couldn't just stand like this, he had to open his eyes. If someone was hurt, they'd need help. If someone was dead ... his thoughts trailed off. He took some deep breaths, forcing air into his lungs until he could feel his ribs expand to compensate. His head was spinning just trying to make sense of the situation, trying to anticipate what his eyes might see when he opened them.

The ringing in Michael’s ears had numbed, but his headache was getting slowly stronger. The shaking in his knees had died down a bit, but he didn’t dare move his legs for fear of falling over. He felt stiff and his body ached in its slightly hunched position. Gabriel was now down to a slight whimper, but everyone else was silent.

Michael’s mind was spinning he needed something to focus on. He needed a way to see the situation from somebody else's eyes. He tried to think about all the detective shows they'd watched together as a family. Despite the fact that Michael had always preferred the lawyer's part with the trial, he’d always enjoyed how the detectives were able to approach a crime scene so calmly and right now, he needed the mind of a detective: cold, calculating, unaffected by the casualties.

So, he began to process of limiting the possible situations that could be in front of him. He hadn't been hit by anyone falling down the stairs, nor had there been a thud as if someone had hit the ground. So that must mean that either: no one was injured/dead or that the uninjured party was holding up the injured/dead party. His brother? His brother's, best friend's, father? His mind fluttering between an unemotional detective and a brother of a potential victim. He gasped for breath as he tried to numb his emotions in favour of the facts or at least the theories he could muster.

Could Lucifer hold John up? Lucifer wasn't weak, but John was a typical demon, very stocky with lots of muscles and the Novak's had always been a weedy breed. So, it was more likely that John would be holding Lucifer up.

Michael swallowed thickly. His baby brother. His best friend. The slow realisation brought a pain to his chest. A sharp stab that turned into a throbbing pulse, spreading throughout his core to his extremities. Michael felt the rolling tear on his cheek.

It was time to know. His mind was spiralling, and the uncertainty of the situation was no longer able to calm his fears.

One, two, three. He blinked his eyes open.


End file.
